The Ballad of Corporal Jenkins
by Knightfall1138
Summary: A humorous account of the real hero of the Mass Effect saga, Richard L. Jenkins.


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Mass Effect:

"The Ballad of Corporal Jenkins"

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When he was young, Richard Jenkins would look up at the night-sky that hovered delicately above Eden Prime and wish for something better. Something above and beyond the life of a farmer that had been thrust upon him when he was no more than two. He dreamed of being taken away from this so-called paradise that humanity had settled for itself, and drifting among the stars for the rest of his days.

His long, life-filled days. Never to be cut short in a hail of gunfire.

At the age of eighteen, he enlisted in the Systems Alliance Marine Corp. In the breaking dawn, he left the wardrobe of red shirts that he had curiously accumulated over the years, said goodbye to his mother and father, and left aboard the next transport off-world.

His father's words echoed through his head as he watched his homeworld become smaller and smaller in the viewport, _"Don't get shot out there, son."_

At Boot Camp, Jenkins was often referred to as "The Magnet", or "Mag" for short. But instead of precious metals, danger is what he attracted.

During a live-fire exercise, he somehow managed to get knee-capped before the starting bell even rang. Three students were court-marshaled for the incident. Their only defense in the matter was that they "felt compelled to do it."

Jenkins spent the next few days in the infirmary, getting med-gel rubbed on his broken knees.

"Doctor?" Jenkins asked weakly. "Am I gonna be able to walk again?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses and peered over the soldier's chart. He shrugged. "You've got a shot..."

Three months into basic training and Cadet Jenkins was at the top of his class. He was given a special commendation for excellence in his studies, two extra days of shore leave, and became instantly hated among his fellow soldiers. During chow, another young cadet, Earley, picked a fight with Jenkins.

"You think you're all that, huh?" Earley asked in an unmistakably rhetorical manner. "You think you can waltz in here and show us all up?"

Jenkins sneered angrily at the challenge, placed his sprinkled brownie back on the tray, and stood to face the boy.

"I don't dance," he said, drawing confused stares from the other cadets. "But I know I can show you up."

Earley fought with the insult briefly—before deciding that he had, indeed, been insulted—and threw a fierce punch across Jenkins' face.

Jenkins was knocked off his feet and toppled over onto one of the lunch tables. Spitting the blood from his mouth, he charged back into the fight, where the two of them became entangled in a cloud combat.

"Stop this!" A drill instructor cried out, and fired his pistol into the air.

Back in the infirmary, Jenkins was treated for the wound he sustained when the bullet returned to earth.

"I tell you, cadet," the doctor began, "I've recovered enough lead out of you to make a necklace. By the way, my wife thanks you for the necklace."

"Do other soldiers have this much trouble?" Jenkins asked, as the med-gel somehow healed the gaping wound in his shoulder.

The doctor shook his head. "Not by a long-shot…" A flash of lightning lit up the window behind him.

After basic training, Jenkins was sent into the fray. On the fringe of the Terminus Systems, he and his unit engaged in various skirmishes with batarian slavers, where he received various commendations for his injuries in the line of duty.

"You shouldn't be so gung-ho, Jenkins," his commanding officer would say. "Stunts like that'll get you shot at indiscriminately. The last thing you wanna do is get killed before the game even starts."

Jenkins raised a brow. "What game?"

"_The_ game, ding-dong. The real battles. We're just fighting slavers out on the fringe. The day will come when you'll have a chance to prove yourself. To show the galaxy that you won't just be a lame supporting character used purely to communicate the ruthlessness of an emerging enemy. That's the last thing you wanna do. Take these words to heart…instead of bullets."

Without warning, Jenkins—recently promoted to Corporal—was transferred to the _SSV Normandy_. He wasn't too thrilled about it until he discovered Commander Shepard was aboard, who was a hero in his eyes.

On the day of the shakedown run, Jenkins wandered the ship in awe, but couldn't take three steps without Doctor Chakwas looking him over with a scanner.

"Would you mind?" Jenkins tried to shoo away the doctor.

"I would, actually," Chakwas replied. "I know an accident-prone soldier when I see one. Just making sure you make it to the battlefield."

Jenkins snickered. "This is a shakedown run. What makes you think we'll actually see any fighting today?"

"In a fictional medium, all of these properly-named characters, and so many celebrity voices floating around spell trouble in my experience."

"Yeah, well, you talk weird."

Just then Commander Shepard approached the two.

"Commander," Jenkins saluted, star-struck. "We're not gonna be on Eden Prime for very long are we? I'm itching for some real action."

"I sincerely hope you're kidding, Corporal," Chakwas snapped. "You know that the over-zealous member of the crew is always the first to tempt fate. Your 'real action' just might get you 'real dead.'"

Shepard chuckled a little under his breath. "Settle down, Jenkins. A real soldier stays cool, even under fire," she said.

"Sorry, Commander. But this waiting's _**killing**_ me. I've never been on a mission like this before." Jenkins counted on his fingers. "I've been on one involving a clown, and one with a Scientologist, but never one with a Spectre on board!"

"Just treat this like every other mission, and you might just escape with an injury that you can live with."

"That's easy for you to say. You proved yourself on that one mission that gave you an infrequently relevant backstory. This is my big chance. I need to show the brass what I can do!"

The Commander pushed her short, red hair back out of his eyes and grinned patiently at Jenkins. "You're young, Corporal, and have a conceivably long career ahead of you. Don't do something stupid to screw it up."

"Don't worry, Commander, I won't screw this up."

--

Jenkins fell to his knees. His shield was gone, and he was filled with fatal amount of lead in his heart and brain. As he lay there, dying, he wondered how he never saw this coming. Perhaps fate was a cruel mistress. A mistress that never called before she came over and just about killed you with banter about how her day went. And then I sit there thinking what I'm doing with a person like that and tell her that maybe we should see different people.

So Jenkins closed his eyes. His last thoughts dwelling on the fact that perhaps he had at least made an impression in the galaxy.

He could have never known how wrong he was.

**Richard L. Jenkins**

"_He Got Shot In The Place That Kills You."_

**2161 - 2183**

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_*Note - Thanks to Mister Buch for inspiring this with his fic, "Mock Effect". Google it or check his profile if you haven't read it yet._  
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End file.
